From the Surface with Love
by Guybrush007
Summary: A story concerning the Paladins, the Savior of the Goddess, the Paladin Lugh, and a whole world of fomors, paladins, and Life not seen under the normal lens of Mabinogi play. Action, adventure, intrigue abount.


So thus begins the first story I've really been inspired to write since True Strength. I know this opening is a bit short, but they'll get longer as more characters and conflicts get introduced.

For those of you who don't know, Mabinogi is an MMORPG (Massively multiplayer online role playing game) released by NexonAmerica and devCAT with no monthly fee. It has a story and world setting that is fairly incredibly detailed for a freebie, and clearly had a lot of thought put into it. This story will draw from the 2nd Generation storyline, that of the Paladins. I will admit that the story will be more accessible to some over others, but I hope that for whatever reason you found yourself reading this that you enjoy.

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Chapter 1: "From the Surface with Love"

Those were the words etched into the warriors' bright and gleaming silver armor. In the direct glare of the sun it was almost impossible to make out, but rarely did they perform in the sun, save for those rare occasions when the Lord insisted they parade through the city and display their strength and glory.

No, usually the words were much better seen when the grooves were filled with the running rivulets of the blood of the fallen, and for some, Shoreth was certain, the blood need not come from an enemy.

"Look alive, recruit! This ain't some walk in the park with your girlfriend! Get your shit together and MOVE YOUR ASS!" Sergeant Melfy bellowed over his shoulder, shocking Shoreth from his reverie. Shouldering the short blade he favored, he adjusted his buckler and proceeded to, "move his ass."

This was his first expedition into the underground labyrinth the locals called "Rabbie," but for all Shoreth cared it looked exactly the same as any other dungeon, especially the one across the fields. Honestly, did no one have any imagination when it came to interior design?

Shoreth grinned inwardly. Those were words that would probably have come straight from his mother's mouth. He hoped she wasn't _too_ worried; after all, Sergeant Melfy was with him on his indoctrinating run into the company "From the Surface with Love." Arguably the harshest Sergeant in the Corps, Melfy was also a skilled and experienced fighter who never left a man behind unless doing so would leave another man behind. No compromises, not ever.

Snapping his focus forward, he was just in time to catch his commanding officer's orders: "So listen up: the fomors in here are tough bastards, but you're tougher! The ones you really gotta watch out for are their archers. Right mean bastards they are; if you see one lining his sight on you get your shield up and pray to Macha his aim is worse than yours!"

"Hey Sarge, if they shoot like you, we won't have to worry, right?" one of the veterans of the group joked. The Sergeant simply flicked his wrist, sending a rock flying at the offender, who ducked it with a laugh and good grace.

"In all seriousness men, keep a sharp eye. Don't interfere with another's single combat, but don't hesitate to lend a hand if it looks bad. Understand?" he barked.

"UNDERSTOOD!" they saluted as one, Shoreth's ridged hand nearly slamming into his helm with the force of his 'aye-aye.'

"Then let's do this," and, with a delighted grin, Sergeant Melfy inserted an orange key into the like-colored lock behind him, twisted, and the door opened to reveal a group of skeletons shuffling about.

One of the men chuckled. "Undead, huh? So that's what we're here for? Undead extermination when they aren't causing anybody trouble?"

He was elbowed in turn by his nearest comrade. "Hey, you _know_ these are minions of the fomors. They just keep 'em here for convenience! See the scrolls on their bodies? Don't forget, if you can preserve enough of them intact Sir Aodhan will give you a huge reward!" His excited words came to a halt as the nearest skeleton snapped into a combat crouch, eyeing him evilly. With a chattering of jaws it came forward, and the seemingly unprepared warrior appeared defenseless.

Yet, as the minion's club descended onto the "hapless" soldier's head amidst shouts of alarm, he ducked down and spun counterclockwise, rolling his sword around as he made a compete spin and when he had the skeleton's legs in his vision he unfurled and leapt up, driving his sword up and through the skeleton's body. With a screech it flew away, rolling to its feet and eyeing the warrior with newfound caution.

After a moment the group of soldiers howled and surged into the room, singling out targets and ripping into them with a practiced and ruthless efficiency. Soon the room was filled with the clash and clamor of sword on bone and bone on cold, hard stone floor.

Soon after it began, it was almost over, except for one of them, a new recruit like Shoreth who was called Callen. As the skeleton he fought came to strike him, he interposed his shield, a beautiful white kite with blue trim and centerpiece, confident that he could stop the club. However…

"AUGH!" the young one screamed as he flew backwards, blood trailing from his jaw, which was torn to shreds. At the last minute the skeleton changed the angle of his blow slightly upwards, slamming the club up at the top rim of the shield, slamming both club and shield into his face.

As the skeleton moved to finish off the bleeding warrior who remained prone on the floor, it was stopped short. Confused, it looked down at itself and protruding from its sternum was the feathered end of a crossbow bolt. Pinprick eyes narrowing even further, it looked up in the direction of the bolt and took the next in the skull, which exploded, showering the nearby with bone fragments as the headless corpse fell to the floor and disintegrated into black nothingness.

The soldiers all looked over at the Sergeant, who replaced his crossbow on his back and sheathed his magnificent claymore as he walked over to the fallen form of Callen. Placing his hands over the broken face of his newest soldier, he formed the mana in him and focused on healing energies.

"Really should have taken more lessons with Agnes… not like it would've been unpleasant or anything," he muttered as blue light fluttered about Callen's head and slowed the bleeding from his jaw wound. "Well, this about does it for us; we'll be heading back now."

"But sir!" They began to protest. "We've only just begun, surely this isn't the end of the mission? We can take Callen with us, it won't be a problem!"

"Mmmf-fffm-mmf!" Callen nodded his head vigorously, wincing as jolts of pain shot through his head.

The Sergeant looked at them all, filled with admiration at his soldiers. Then he turned to Shoreth and asked, "Well, son? What do you think?

_I think there's something you're not telling us,_ he thought sourly. Replying out loud, he simply nodded and said, "I think we should know when we've lost the tide of battle and retreat for now."

The Sergeant looked at him for awhile before laughing and nodding his head. "Wise words comin' from you, kid. Alright, you heard the lad, secure your loot and head for the statue, we're goin' home."

As the men began to laugh and joke amongst themselves, comparing gold prizes and fomor scrolls collected, Shoreth helped Callen to his feet, noticing that the young soldier was unconscious, probably from a combination of pain and exhaustion. Looking over his shoulder at the looming hallway they were forsaking, he wondered just what they were doing so far from home in another city's jurisdiction.

And _why_ did the Sergeant so easily decide to go home?

Lost in thought, Shoreth hardly noticed when they arrived at the gates of Emain Macha and was only brought out of his musing by the Sergeant's familiar bark, "Get those horses stabled and get your asses home to your families! I want each and every one of you rested and reporting for duty at 7AM tomorrow morning! Now get some R&R, that's an order!" and the choruses of "Yes, sir!"

Shaking his head free of his mental cobwebs, he helped Callen get down off his horse and began lugging him towards Agnes' house.

"Y'know, we joined around the same time, but we've never really been introduced. I'm Callen, Callen Shepfield," the other man said jovially through a broken jaw. Shoreth suppressed a chuckle.

"Shoreth von Moorson. That was quite a hit you took." He took a closer look at his comrade and noted that he was well on the way to a mend; surely Agnes wouldn't take too much time.

Callen laughed. "Yeah, that sucker caught me by surprise! But I figure I'm lucky; if I didn't have my trusty shield I'd have looked a lot worse! And I can't even say 'You should see the other guy' when I get home either," he growsed good-naturedly.

Shoreth looked at the shield on the other man's back again. Again, he was struck by its peculiar color and craftsmanship. "That _is_ a fine piece of work right there. Who smithed it for you?"

Callen looked sideways at his new friend. "You're pretty sharp. It was left for me by my old man. Apparently it was his, and it's been repaired by Edern dozens of times over."

"Edern! You must be loaded for your pops to have been able to afford that!" Shoreth exclaimed. Then, he realized his mistake. "Oh, I'm sorry, I wasn't thinking."

Callen grinned. "He died in the service to his people, defending Emain Macha from an attack years ago. Mum always says doesn't do the dead much good to mourn them, but ain't no trouble to remember the good things they done."

Shoreth nodded in agreement. "My mum's the same way, always reminiscing about her old days as a King's Ranger. Dad's only home on the weekends when he can get back from Bangor, and he's the same way. Honestly, sometimes I wonder if they aren't Milletians pretending to be Tuatha de Donnans," he finished with a laugh.

Callen joined him, wincing as soon as he did. "Ow. Thank Lymilark for Agnes. And speak of the Goddess herself! Agnes, milady, you look as wonderful as ever!" he shouted by way of greeting, pausing in between words to spit out blood.

Agnes only glared at him. "What was it this time, Callen? Wolves? Bandits? Ah, the telltale sign of a club. You've been in Rabbie or Math again, haven't you? What the hell do you carry that shield around for if you can't seem to use it to defend yourself!"

Shoreth blinked. Where was the cute little healer who was so modest and kind to the wounded? Who was this woman berating his fellow Paladin about his injuries so…

So intimately?

Callen only shrugged as gold changed hands and Agnes immediately set about applying her special healing magicks about his face. With a wink to Shoreth, he quipped, "You should see the other guy," then winced as something cracked. But as Agnes withdrew her hands, Shoreth saw that Callen's jaw was completely healed. No matter how many times he saw it, healing always fascinated him.

"And who is your new friend? Or should I say misfortunate accomplice? Sorry sir, but this uncouth fellow brings out the worst in me, ever since he first showed up on my doorstep with two broken arms after his first day at Paladin Training.

Shoreth laughed. "I'm Shoreth von Moorson. And don't worry ma'am, I'll do my best to keep this one out of trouble from now on."

"Agnes, and don't let anyone tell you otherwise," she shot back with a wink. "Now get home before your mothers start wondering."

"Shut it, woman, you're 18 just like the rest of us, no need to treat us like children," Callen replied sarcastically. Agnes glared at him.

"_Nineteen_, and don't you forget it. Now move!" She shooed them away. "I've got to eat dinner too, y'know, and the Milletians have stopped coming for the day. Honestly, you'd think every this, that, and the other thing was the end of the world for them…" she trailed off as she opened and entered the door behind her, lighting her lantern for the evening.

Shoreth looked at Callen, who shrugged. "Count yourself lucky, that was a rare site you just witnessed. C'mon, you live on the East side as well, we'll walk whatever we can conveniently together."

They made it to the Bean Rua Club before Callen turned towards the square and bade Shoreth a farewell with a promise to meet in the square the next morning.

Continuing to his house near Ailionoa's Clothing and Fashion Boutique, he stopped when he noticed a man standing by the back of the auditorium. A pointed hat with a large brim sat on his head, a star gleaming under the light of Eweca about the base, but any other feature about the man was obscured by the shadows he sat wrapped in. Looking up, he saw Shoreth's inquisitive gaze and smiled slightly before stepping backwards. As Shoreth blinked trying to adjust his eyes to the dim lighting, he realized that the man had disappeared.

"Don't just stand there like a dummy, get in here before I put one through ya!" a young woman's voice howled, shattering the silence of the night as one might hurl a glass at a wall. Shoreth turned to see his younger sister aiming her practice bow at him, a wicked grin on her face as she sighted him down one of the training arrows his mother had fletched for her. Tipped with a blunt metal casing, they couldn't pierce skin but still left a bruise.

Shoreth paused for a moment, then leapt forward, tackling his younger sibling and wrestled her to the ground. "Resistance is futile!" he yelled triumphantly as he hoisted her over his shoulder and carried her inside, trying to ignore the surprisingly strong thumps on his back as she pounded him, laughing.

"Shoreth, put your sister down! She's only 15 you know, no sense in lording your strength over her," his mother scolded, though the smile in her eyes gave her away to the young Paladin. Shoreth tossed the lump on his shoulders to the side, but his sister merely rolled with the motion and came to the floor standing and ran to stand beside her mother, sticking her tongue out at her brother as he took the sight of them in.

His sister, Perse von Moorson, was the spitting image of her father, bright red hair spilling about her small shoulders, green eyes framing high cheekbones and a lithe, slender figure to match. In a few months, she would start to break the hearts of many a young fool (though Shoreth wondered if she hadn't been already, the mischievous rogue). His mother, on the other hand, looked much like Shoreth, with hair so dark it appeared navy and light blue-green eyes, classic features and a firm build, but while his mother was no less the beauty his father claimed she was years ago, Shoreth was as handsome as they came in Erinn, or so his father liked to tease.

His mother, meanwhile, had been appraising him in return, and snorted, somewhat satisfied. "Your first mission, and you come back unscathed. Or did you visit dear Agnes before you came home?"

"You told me to come straight home before I got healed unless it was serious," Shoreth retorted, still puzzled by that peculiar commandment as he had been that morning when it was delivered to him by a stern mother. "I got one skeleton in Rabbie, but the mission was called off before we could go any further," he grumbled as he sat down at the table. "What time is dinner?"

"When it's done. Perse, get in the kitchen and help me, your brother had a long day at work," his mother chided lightly. Perse was not so compassionate.

"He got to ride around Uladh and kill stuff. Gee, it's a tough life," she mocked, but she squeezed her brother's shoulder as she stalked off to the kitchen.

Shoreth smiled at her in return, then stared at the table, moving his eyes through a knot in the old wood. Who was that man just then? And what was Sergeant Melfy hiding from them? He wasn't sure if the Sergeant was keeping them in the dark or not, but he intended to find out. Things were different ever since the so-they-claim Savior of the Goddess disgraced Paladin Craig by rejecting the Paladin Training and struck out on his own. They hadn't heard anything about the mysterious person who carried the blessing of Morrighan recently, and he hadn't been seen in Emain Macha in almost a month. Shoreth wasn't even sure if it was a man or a woman; no one seemed to mention that one oddly significan detail.

Snorting and laying his head on the table, he smiled. Regardless, he had done well today, but he knew he was only as good as his last, and he fervently wished that he would be able to come home showing off a wound or two to his mother, rather than his corpse.

_Either way, tomorrow will come sooner than I want it to,_ he thought drowsily.

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And thus endeth the first chapter. No, that fellow in the shadows was not me, I'm not that arrogant :D.

I hope you enjoyed this story, and hope to see you again soon.

Ja.


End file.
